Chapter 24 Lee
Lee
The Mall Athens was a gleaming monstrosity of marble and glass, ten minutes from Plaka by metro.
When Lee googled “pharmacy Athens English speaking,” The Mall Athens website had appeared, a beacon of American-style efficiency.
Surely here, in this mall that could have been in Sherman Oaks or Short Hills, she could simply refill her prescriptions as if she were at a big, air-conditioned Walgreens.
The pharmacy was on the second floor. Lee approached the counter with her empty pill bottles, arranging her face into “harried foreign woman needs help.”
“Γεια σα?,” said the pharmacist.
“English?” Lee asked, changing her persona to “helpless but charming” in a flash.
“Of course.” The pharmacist examined her bottles. “These require Greek doctor prescription.”
“I completely understand. And I respect your medical system! But I do have a prescription for these medications. The number is right there on the bottle.”
“Need Greek doctor, then prescriptions for you.” She checked her watch. “Pharmacy closing now for lunch. Open again four p.m.”
Lee felt her charm curdle. “I see,” she said.
“However, I really do need these medications. To be honest”—she leaned close, trying to connect, to be a “vulnerable friend” character—“I’m worried about a manic episode.
I’ve run out of my mood stabilizer completely, and I’m almost out of my antidepressant. ”
The pharmacist’s expression softened. “I understand, but regulations. You can wait? Talk to doctor?”
“I shouldn’t wait,” said Lee, truthfully.
She had begun feeling mild symptoms already—she’d barely slept even though she was exhausted, and felt happier than she should, given the circumstances.
Honestly, she felt better than she had in a long time, but Lee understood that feeling good was actually dangerous for her. Mania…such a seductive siren!
“You gonna wait,” said the woman as she yanked down a metal sheet to close up shop for her four-hour (!) lunch. A piece of paper taped to the metal sheet read, No Foreigners on Tuesday.
Lee’s off-kilter brain wondered: Is this a special message, just for me?
Lee had very thick credit cards with high limits.
She exited the ol’ φαρμακε?ο, ready for some retail therapy.
The mall’s architecture was aggressive in its normalcy—the same polished floors and Muzak as every mall in existence.
Lee passed Zara, H&M, Marks & Spencer. Greek teenagers lounged on benches drinking Starbucks, indistinguishable from kids in Beverly Hills except for their language and the fact that they seemed to favor tighter tops.
In a department store, Lee rode the escalator up through floors of handbags and cosmetics.
She sat for a makeover she didn’t need, letting the artist layer thick foundation over her cheeks and chin.
“You are actress?” the woman asked, and Lee neither confirmed nor denied, just smiled mysteriously, like someone in a movie.
But she was not in a movie.
Trying on a white blazer she’d never wear, Lee stared at herself under the fluorescent lights. She tossed her hair, pasted a delighted smile on her face, then realized she was alone in a dressing room, performing for absolutely no one.
She bought the blazer. And a silk scarf.
And leather gloves, though it was April.
With a Starbucks Lavender Latte, she sat on a bench.
A small girl walked by with her mother, staring openly at Lee.
Lee automatically caught the girl’s gaze, and gave her a tiny, private smile: the perfect “celebrity spotted in public” expression.
The girl’s mother pulled her along. Lee’s smile faded.
She couldn’t wait another two hours in this mall.
Lee gathered her bags and headed toward the metro. Tomorrow she’d try again. Or the next day. Or maybe she’d just learn to live with the price of going off her meds: no sleep, brain zaps, fabulous bursts of energy and purpose, the crushing, inevitable conclusion. At least withdrawal was real.
As she waited for the train, Lee felt ashamed of her extravagant purchases.
Her sister was missing, and she’d spent the afternoon buying clothes!
But at least shopping had filled the hours, made her feel like she was doing something, even if that something was just… making it from one second to the next.
Lee caught herself lifting her chin, resting her hand on her hip. Christ. Even alone, with no one watching, she couldn’t stop being Lee Perkins, troubled actress. But isn’t she gorgeous?